A Piece of Trash From Hazelhurst
by GunnerGirl
Summary: I short scene from the childhood of a twelve year old Emmett abuse and homophobia. featuring Aunt Lula


"Aunt Lula, have you seen Emmett? His supper is ready and I haven't seen him all afternoon."

Momma was stood on the porch in her apron, her hands covered in soap having just been doing the dishes. Aunt Lula looked up from her sewing and nodded, smiling eerily, her chair rocking back and forth, back and forth. A small head peeped over her lap and large, hazel eyes gazed up at Momma cautiously.

"Emmett Honeycutt!" Momma gasped. "Have you been fightin?"

The boy's lip trembled, his nose was bleeding and his shirt was torn.

"No Mom, Rick and Julian Whitewood stole my bag with everythin in it," Emmett said, quietly defensive.

"What's goin on?"

Daddy had stepped out of the house onto the porch, still in his work boots from his day down on the dock, they made a loud thump on the floor at his footfalls.

"Those Whitewood boys have been harassing Emmett again," Momma sighed, shortly.

"Daddy, can't you talk to the Whitewoods?" Emmett pleaded.

"Can't I…? Emmett, are you crazy boy? How many times have I told you about the way you act? I told you didn't I? I said to you to stop actin like a goddamn faggot, it'll get you into trouble. Maybe now you'll learn you're lesson." Daddy crossed his thick arms over his chest and smirked.

"Will you leave the boy alone, Frank," Aunt Lula snapped. "He ain't hurting anyone."

"Stay out of this, Lula," Daddy muttered.

"If you don't give those Whitewood boys what for then I will," Aunt Lula said, beginning to lift herself out of the chair.

"No Aunt Lula," Emmett pushed her gently back down. He couldn't bear the thought of Rick and Julian bullying Aunt Lula, it'd break his heart.

There was a silence and Daddy ground his teeth distractedly, it was a habit he had when he was in deep thought. Then very suddenly he looked at his wife.

"Martha, go inside."

Momma looked a little fearful, not liking his tone of voice or the look in his eyes as he fixed them upon their son.

"But Frank…"

"Inside I said, woman!"

Momma nodded nervously, and quickly turned and hurried into the house.

"Lula, are you gonna haul your ass outta that chair any time soon?" Daddy demanded.

"Don't plan to," Lula shrugged.

Emmett stood up and backed against the porch railing, gripping it tightly behind him – he always got nervous when Aunt Lula talked to Daddy like that.

But Daddy just snorted and then thumped down the porch steps and onto the lawn, then began to walk down to the community parking lot, which was practically empty. Emmett watched him, wondering what he was doing.

"Emmett!" Daddy hollered. Emmett jumped a little and then scrambled down the steps and hurried to catch up with his father.

"So you're tired of being picked on? So I'm gonna teach you how to fight," Daddy said, smiling.

Emmett recoiled a little – nothing good could come out of this. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't… I'm sure they won't do it again," Emmett lied, shrugging his skinny shoulders and trying to act indifferent.

"You don't want your old man to teach you how to box?" Daddy asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"…I… I don't really like boxing," Emmett gulped.

"You don't like boxing?" Daddy growled. "So let me get this straight, Em – you're a twelve year old boy and you don't like baseball, you don't like basketball, you don't like hockey, you don't like football, you don't like soccer, you don't like golf, and you don't like boxing… so what exactly do you like?"

Daddy counted off the sports as he listed them on his fingers, each strike getting a little harsher than the last, a little more aggressive.

"Erm… I…" Emmett flailed, desperately trying to think of something. "I like movies!"

"Oh yeah?" Daddy bent a little closer to Emmett, leaning towards him intently. "And what movies do you like?"

Emmett stepped back a little and looked up at his hulking father fearfully before replying quietly, "Dirty Dancing and Top Gun."

"_Jesus fucking Christ Emmett!" _Daddy bellowed without any warning.

Emmett didn't even see the fist until it had connected with his jaw. He curled instinctively into a ball, his arms over his head, feebly trying to protect himself as he rolled helplessly on the dusty ground. His father bent and punched him again, full force to the side of his head, and very quickly it was a rain of fists that were pummelling him again and again until he thought he was breaking into tiny pieces.

"Fucking faggot! Why?! What did I do to deserve this fairy shit?! You think you're my son, huh?! You think you're my son?! You little shit! You're gonna burn in hell you little cock sucking bastard!"

Daddy stopped hitting and started kicking, the steel toe caps colliding with Emmett's ribcage. Emmett whimpered as he tried to curl up more, but he was crying so hard his body was becoming weak and his muscles were like jelly with the shock of being beaten so savagely. This pain was ten times worse than anything the boys at school had ever inflicted on him.

Then Daddy took off his belt and started hitting again and that was when Emmett screamed and Momma came running down from the house screaming too.

"Frank no! Stop it! No!" Momma grabbed his wrist as he pulled his arm back to lash Emmett with the belt again. Daddy shook her off and she stumbled but then she came back at him and grabbed his arm again.

"You stop this right now Frank Honeycutt, before you get yourself arrested!" she hissed, desperately. Her eyes darted from side to side, checking that the neighbours weren't watching. Daddy lowered his arm, his rage cooling. He said nothing, just spat on the ground and turned toward the house. Emmett remained curled on the ground, bloodied and bruised, sobbing his heart out.

"Come back inside," Momma said, calmly, taking Daddy's arm. He let her lead him back up to the house. Momma called over her shoulder as they walked up the lawn, "You get yourself to bed Emmett, I don't want anymore trouble because of you tonight."

Emmett waited a while before gingerly unfolding himself once he was sure Daddy had gone into the house. He half crawled, half limped up the lawn and tried to bite back his sobs as he passed his Aunt Lula, sleeping peacefully in her chair on the porch, unaffected by the commotion. He dragged himself upstairs and was eventually able to curl up on his bed, where he fell into an uneasy sleep.


End file.
